It began as a relaxing evening as I settled into my favorite chair to watch the fourth game of the World Series. I smiled at the memory of Dad calling it the “World Serious,’’ despite my repeated attempts to correct him.
Before the Minnesota Twins came to Minnesota, Dad’s favorite team had been the Mickey Mantle-led Yankees, a team that dominated the sport in the 1950s and early 1960s.
It wasn’t too long after the first pitch when the cellphone beeped. My instinct was to ignore it and to respond later to a message.
I did answer the cellphone, thinking that one of our grown children wanted to talk. It was Kathy, and the news wasn’t good. She had hit a deer at interstate highway speed and her agitated voice spoke of big trouble.
“Can you come and get me?’’
Thank heavens the ambulance crew was on the scene and examined what turned out to be a cut on her hand caused by the airbag deployment. It was suggested that she consider going to the emergency room to have it checked out, which was 35 minutes distant. Driving at night is increasingly troublesome so I hoped the trip wouldn’t be necessary.
An attendant continued to settle us down in the jarring world of flashing lights.
It came out of nowhere, Kathy said before asking if we might claim its carcass.
Years ago, when more characters inhabited the farming community, rumors were that one fellow harvested dead raccoons, deer and other animals from the roadside.
Gossip claimed it didn’t matter if the animal had been dead a day or two, he would bring it home for his wife to cook. Given what I knew about his quirky personality, the rumor could have possibly been true.
Deer and vehicle collisions are not uncommon in Minnesota this time of year. The state recorded 1,250 deer-vehicle accidents in 2025 and it’s likely many more went unreported. North Dakota doesn’t keep an annual tally, but officials reported a 12% increase involving deer-caused accidents in 2025 compared to the year before.
Collisions are generally more frequent from October to November during rut season when bucks are singly focused on finding mates.
I have hit four deer during a 30-year long journalism career while driving a big boat-sized Oldsmobile to the 60-mile round trip to and from work. The airbags, had they deployed, would have ended the vehicle’s run.
The baseball game continued without either one of us. Kathy remained jittery throughout the night and slept little. Calls to the insurance company and two body shops followed the next day. A clinic doctor bandaged her hand and no stitches were necessary.
“She said that I shouldn’t get the bandage wet,’’ Kathy said, adding that a good husband would put food on the table. Although it can be debated whether her husband is good, I did as she requested.
Given the fact that I can’t hit the broadside of a barn with a rifle or shotgun, my hunting career was marred by consistent failure.
The best encounter with a deer involved a fawn seriously injured when it was run over by the haybine while cutting first-crop alfalfa. Brother Vern, who was determined to save its life, carried it home, blanketed it, and put it in the basement. The odds that it would survive were long, but Vern was determined to try. Mother, who was adept at nursing orphaned lambs, weak ducklings, chickens and piglets, was also committed to the cause.
Despite a veterinarian’s opinion that the damage to its legs was too severe to allow recovery, the fawn remained in the basement for three weeks before Vern decided it would be best for the animal to be euthanized.
He was a good hunter and an even better man for attempting the impossible.
Mychal Wilmes is the retired managing editor of Agri News. He lives in West Concord, Minnesota, with his wife, Kathy.